The House
by Represent
Summary: Married for many years, Roy and Edward's have grown apart from one another. After they move to a new house in a new city Edward begins to witness things he cannot explain. Convinced someone or something is in the house with them, and Roy won't listen, he has no one to turn to. Psychological thriller, AU, RoyEd One-shot.


The House

_Represent_

**Author's Note:** This is meant to be a long one-shot of a story. Its a psychological thriller written from Edward's first person perspective - my personal favorite to write. This is AU as well in which Roy and Edward are married, and have been married for a while now. The whole story line itself is mature, but there is also a steamy scene. :) Enjoy, and please review.

* * *

I frowned softly, thoughtfully. The nail was a little off, and I suppose if I just take it out and then redo it.. did I really care though? My eyes flicked to the mantle-piece with general apathy before I gave a small sigh. I had the whole day to myself I might as well do it right, I thought glumly.

Looking back down at the wooden frame I took up the hammer and started prying it out. It popped with a click and I realigned it back to the center, before gently and meticulously tapping the nail back into place. I rubbed my fingers together slowly, feeling the grooves along the pads before running my finger along the nail, then along the wood - jumping as I felt myself get a splinter. Bitting my lip, I peered now at the wood that had injected itself into my left pointer finger.

I bit along it, trying to suck it out as I got up and straightened the picture before turning to the huge blank spot on the wall.

This whole house was blank and empty. I supposed that that was only to be expected, of course. We had just moved. However, the walls were white-washed and gave off a strange sick yellow tone when the sunlight came in the window. I often wondered how something as sweet as sunlight could cause the walls to look even uglier than they were. Sunlight always made things brighter. This house happened to be the only acceptation to this rule.

I had spent a lot of time pondering the eccentricities of this place, since I had yet to find something to do besides try and fill it with something less dismal.

I hoisted the picture up with a small grunt, lining the hook with the nail and hanging it there. I stood back, my original intent had been to add color to the living room. A picture of me and my husband in Boston. I instantly regretted it. The picture, when it had been hanging in our old house, had been beautiful and lively. This house sucked it out of our faces. I shuddered and took it back off the wall as soon as I looked at it. Maybe it was all in my mind.

I took the picture and walked back through the house to the stairs, climbing up to the attic to put the picture back and see if I could find anything else to fill the house with.

We had only moved about a month ago, so there was still a ton to unpack. Most of the necessities had already been put into place - bed, table, sofa, and TV. It was the smaller things that filled the house with a sense of life and purpose that I had yet to figure out where to put.

I sucked softly on the finger that had been impaled by the splinter downstairs and for a long moment I stood silent in the attic. It creeped me out. There was a strange sense of foreboding that welled up inside of me whenever I stood here to long. I would try to avoid looking around too much, try to avoid standing in one place for too long inside it as if something was watching me. Just as always, that same notion crept up my stomach and into my heart making it hard to breath. The instinct to run screamed at me as my own mind turned every shadow into something potential dangers. Little nagging thoughts that someone had gotten inside when my back had been turned always haunted me up here.

I paused as I stood among the seas of boxes and I turned tail and left the attic in a half panic. The attic was full of spiders, even though we had cleaned it together the day we had moved in. I didn't like spending more than an hour in it by myself. It was an irrational fear. More like a feeling, and I'd always feel stupid when I was back in the safety net of the living room.

I'd watched too many horror shows on TV to know that the attic was always where you died.

Our attic was huge, expansive. You didn't have to duck and the floor was covered with dusty cracked floorboards. You could see the roofing over the top of your head and a small window to the very end. The light filtered through and made a fog - dust falling from the rafters. It always felt like things were too quiet there. Things sounded muffled from below. If I got stuck in there no one could hear me scream.

I had been daring small adventures into it to grab something else from a box and then spend an hour fussing over where that item would go. Usually I couldn't find a suitable spot and I would have to put it back. In the end the decision that would have taken me two minutes was always the same one - I only took three hours. The hours I took were hours I wasn't in the attic.

The house itself was larger than our last one. It had two bathrooms and three bedrooms. My husband loved it for the backyard. Three acres that had cherry trees and apple trees. In the far back it went into forest, thick and gnarled with blackberry bushes and nettles. There were a few spots we had found that looked like neglected trails through the woods. We assumed they popped out somewhere near 7th Street, but we would probably never find out.

I sighed again, settling on my couch. He had his couch, I had mine. We had been married for seven years. Enough time to have moved away from thinking his snoring was adorable. Now it was just plain annoying. We survived around each other by having personal space, which never invaded the other's. We would come together into one space, for moments of time in which we would love each other in a married couple way and then we would go back to doing our own thing - our own path, our own life. Two paths in the backyard, they might have both ended up at 7th Street. I didn't know yet.

We had moved because his job had required it. I still liked Boston. My younger brother, Alphonse, lived there still. I went from never being alone, to having no one to talk to but myself and this house. Being so far removed from my remaining family had a toll on me that I hadn't expected. And, of course, I had to find myself a new job. At first the whole move had been exciting. I wasn't thrilled, but I was happy for him. Now I was starting to see that this was a mistake.

He just told me to go out and get another job, make new friends. I wondered if he truly understood me at times like this. I wasn't the kind of person that just made 'new friends'. My friends were the kind of people that knew everything about me. They had known me through kindergarten. It was hard to create 'new' people like that. Besides, I had a hard time creating real friends.

People told me that I had tons of friends, but I hadn't seen them. I think I'm the type of person that unknowingly has people that call them friends - but only really call three or two people my friends. One-sided friendship. My definition is different than most people's. The man I drink coffee with everyday down the street is an acquaintance, not a friend. The woman that had driven me to a hospital after I had broken my collarbone falling down the stairs was my friend. I guess that makes me distant, since I've only broken my collarbone once.

I flicked a match from the box, lighting the candle on the mantle-piece and stepping back. The fire made the house gleam in a way I hadn't noticed before. I wondered what it would look like burning to the ground. Stunningly beautiful, I guessed. I would have lit the fireplace too, but we hadn't gotten it cleaned yet.

Instead I lit more candles and pondered over what color to repaint this room. My husband had told me he could care less about the color of the rooms - just as long as I didn't touch his study.

Red? The fire was appealing.

Blue would make it look even sicker. And yellow more disgusting.

I resettled on my red couch, pulling my knees into myself as I watched the flame flicker onwards weakly. The drapes were closed because I couldn't stand the sight of the sunlight making the house look like vomit.

In the distance I heard him pull into the driveway. Even as I peered from my perch on my couch the sound was muffled, made it feel like the house was heavy and secluded. Glancing outside the window I could see him reverse out to park on the street - a habit from living in downtown Boston. We hadn't gotten used to the vast amount of space we had purchased yet. Maybe that's what was making me easily spooked. His car gave its signature pop as it changed to reverse. We still needed to get the transmission looked at, but had never had the time.

My eyes narrowed as I watched him pull himself out of the car, like it took great effort; a paper was clenched tightly in one hand.

I turned, glancing up at the candles, blinking at how fast they had melted. They were over half gone, the wax had dripped along the cold brick.

His voice echoed through the empty hallway as the front door was opened and shut, his polished shoes clicking along the shiny wood flooring.

"Hello dear, how was your day?"

It was said as the start of a ritual, not because Roy was concerned my day had been particularly interesting but because there wasn't much else to say.

"Fine." I answered dutifully. I stared at the empty place in the wall with vigor, as if blaming it for not holding our picture. Nothing could, I realized, because we'd been so much different when it had been taken. We had been dating, we hadn't been married. We weren't on our honeymoon anymore and I could feel it everyday. No wall could try and emulate what was nonexistant.

"I was thinking mauve for this room." I told him offhandedly. Red was too much like blood. Mauve was nice, it was agreeable. It was dry and boring, like us, like this new house and this new place. I didn't say this however. Instead I fixated a grin that was a lie - and if it had been eight years ago he would have seen right through it. He would have xrayed my scull already and known that I wouldn't like this house, that it wouldn't grow on me. Instead it would grow in me. But, now, he hardly paid enough attention to even see I was smiling. He bought whatever I said, ate whatever I put in front of him. He was always tired and had little to say.

I considered him for a moment, before showing him the color swap that I had gotten from the hardware store down the street.

He sat down on his couch, making an agreeable noise in the back of his throat.

"Whatever makes you happy," He amended to him, opening the paper and staring at the front page. Not so much big news as something related to the community. Which, in such a small town as this, was not unheard of.

Whatever indeed. I swallowed a sigh at his apathy and instead watched him read the paper on his couch. Our couches were divided by a small table where we set our drinks. Either one was too small for both of us to sit together on anyways, but it always seemed like he leaned as much as he could away from mine.

I settled my eyes back to the candles on the mantle-piece, knowing that trying to start anymore conversation was futile. He would say what he guessed I wanted to hear, make a grunt, and the conversation would be over by the third syllable. Instead I gathered the newspaper clippings for job offers and started to read through them. My eyes darted to the hallway where the stairs to the attic lay.

My eyes recovered from the hallway and they glanced over at him. I could see him peering at me critically over his newspaper. I waved a few of the clippings to him with a small shrug. Truth was I still loved the man and if he told me that getting a job and trying to make new friends was the way to go I was inclined to hope it was. Even when in my heart I was frustrated he understood me less and less.

"I found a few." I told him, "Called for interviews."

His dark eyes quickly flicked off the page to scan over me, before they were glued back to what he had been reading.

"What did they say?"

It was a safe topic. He hummed softly at me. It wasn't that we fought. I don't think that we had the energy to do that.

"To meet with them tomorrow." I told him, settling back into my couch. The TV, turned off, cast a beady black eye on the room - like a bug's face. It glinted the light of the candle with a luminescent glare and I could see us, warped, together - but apart - in its reflection. There was no color, just shades of mauve and gray.

"Yes mauve is the right color." I sighed, setting the color sample out on the table to remind me to go get the paint when I went downtown tomorrow.

"That's good. I don't like too dark colors." Roy sighed, looking down at the paper and then back at me. It was how all marriages were, right?

The next day I ventured out of the house to take the interview, and had gotten the job. I wasn't stupid, I'd graduated top of my class from the local college. I just didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. If anything the job gave me an excuse to leave the house which had been getting more and more on my nerves. Slightly over-qualified to be the cashier at the local grocery store, I knew I could have done better but my motivation seemed to be sucked straight out of me. A haze of darkness and despondency had started to chase after me, making me feel alone and isolated. The energy and courage it took to actually start a career was missing, a piece of me.

My eyes trailed along to my feet, to my shadow. I watched him mimic me as I walked down the street - my darker half.

After I got the job I went down to the store and grabbed the mauve paint colors. I tested them with the stick before walking back inside the house. I paused before moving the chairs and stuff out of the room so I could start taping off the edges.

For some reason I kept glancing over my shoulder, my hair standing on the back of my neck. I was sure someone was watching me, but the window blinds were closed - like always.

* * *

As the weeks wore on I tried to stay away from the house as much as possible. I stopped seeing Roy much at all because I avoided the house and he liked the house. I worked, I walked downtown, I came home at night and left in the morning. I had painted the room but it still looked off. I thought maybe I should paint it again maybe grey. Mauve was too cheerful. Something was wrong with this place. I could feel it.

Today I was stuck here. It was a Saturday and I had run out of excuses to leave. I sat in my couch, by myself. I was by myself a lot. I was unsure if it was healthy or not. Things had started moving and I had blamed it on Roy at first - but when he wasn't there to move things I had nothing to blame. Which, made me feel a bit nuts.

I would place the tupperware on the counter, turn, and it would be on the other one. Turn the lights out and come back to find them on again. See things that would convince me something wasn't' right, but I always blamed it on myself or on Roy. It was only when I would be sitting, watching the scrawny blonde neighbor from across the street mow the lawn and turn around in my chair to check on him again and see the lawn had already been cut, in under a minute and a half, that I had no explanation for.

It seemed silly, but it was still wearing on me. The stairs creaked for no reason when I was sleeping, and I'd wake up and try to convince myself that I was just dreaming that I heard them - but I was always unsure. Doubting myself was not something I was good at. I had never had to doubt myself before, but then again, I had always had motivation and courage, ambition and drive. I had always had a thirst for adventure, something that Roy had been attracted to.

Whenever I jumped and looked at Roy he would chuckle and pat my head, giving a soft admonishment, "You have the most creative imagination, Ed."

However, I couldn't handle not knowing if someone was in the house or not. After a month or so I grew convinced.

And when I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a clang downstairs, I whipped upright and shook Roy awake, grabbing the lamp in a panic to use as a weapon. I was sure that someone was getting in the house. That they were always there. I would mention it to Roy and I knew he didn't believe me. Maybe now this would be proof enough.

I could hear the scratching and shuffling from down the hallway clear as day.

Roy shifted, grunting at being shaken awake and jolted. I could feel his hot body next to me spring to life - convinced there was danger if I had woken him up so roughly.

"What is it?" He whispered, looking at me with still bleary eyes, seeing the lamp in my hand, confusion crossing his face.

My eyes darted to him, not relaxing.

"Shh." I shushed, "Listen. Do you hear that?"

There was another faint scraping sound, a rattle and a shuffle. I felt my breathe get stolen inside my chest.

"Someone's in the house." I told him, refraining from telling him I told you so.

There was a long pause, all of Roy's muscles strained, still like a soldier, before: "I don't hear anything, I don't hear anyone."

"Listen!" I ordered him, growing irritated. I hated the way he looked at me. There it was again, another scraping, lower this time. It was unmistakable. It was THERE. I wasn't making this up.

"How can you not hear that?" I cried.

"I don't hear it. Maybe you have some hearing problems? Did you get hit?"

He sunk back into the covers and I stared at him incredulously.

"You're not even going to look?" I asked him in bland disbelief. Irritation scattered across my face and I grabbed the bat from the closet and left him in the room. I did a sweep of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary before pausing before the attic stairs. My eyes slowly moved up them and to the door that I kept locked at all times. I shivered in the darkness.

I heard the scraping sound again, it drifted downwards. I swallowed a dry swallow, slowly climbing up the stairs and undoing the lock. I raised the bat before pushing the door open.

It creaked slowly and I flicked on the light as fast as possible. The boxes were scattered around the room where I presumed I had left them. Across on the window along the way there was a knarled branch. It hit the window each time the wind whistled past.

I sucked in a relieved breath, turning, slamming the light off, slamming the door, re-locking it, and rushing down the stairs and back into the bedroom shaking.

"It was a tree branch." I told him shortly, tightly.

"I would protect you," Roy offered, sensing my unease. He stared at me, long and hard, as if trying to see through me like he used to do, only this time I was pissed off and angry and it had taken him long enough to pay some sort of attention to me that I didn't want to talk about it - didn't want him to understand me anymore. I ripped my eyes away from his, almost afraid he would still have that ability to know what was going on with me, and I furiously buried myself on my side of the bed - unspokenly there was a line drawn between the two sides, one that wasn't to be crossed tonight.

Roy frowned at me, silent.

Protect me. Huh. How would he protect me? By calling me a liar and then getting back in bed while I took the bat and ventured into the attic by myself? What if someone really HAD been in the house? He'd be too busy snoring to even notice I'd been stabbed by the kitchen knives Winry had given us for a wedding present.

I stared at the wall, my back to him as I seethed silently, unable to sleep anymore. I could still hear that branch above my head. It sounded like someone slinking around above me, ready to pounce down and smother me. I would have to chop it off tomorrow.

"I had been in the house. All through it while you were in bed. I knew that nobody was there." Roy whispered.

I said nothing to him, highly doubting it. I didn't feel bad for doubting him when I could see him doubting me everyday. I didn't move, hoping he would just drop it and leave me alone. Maybe he would think I'd gone to sleep. My eyes narrowed and closed, tightening whenever that claw chiselled through the attic window. I closed my eyes.

Roy gave a long suffering sigh, making me feel like a child. He had a knack for making me feel like the petulant one.

"There's a dinner party at work." He mentioned.

I grunted. That was probably the most he'd get out of me tonight. I was unwilling to talk to him, and unable to focus on something as mundane as a dinner party. I closed my eyes with the real intention of falling asleep this time so that he'd quit talking to me when I was angry at him. Obviously he could have just TOLD me he'd already checked out the house.

But, would I have believed him? Probably not. But, maybe I wouldn't have had to venture into the attic. Every time I had to go in there I felt like I was going to die at any moment.

Roy sighed again, rolling over so his back was facing mine.

"Good night."

* * *

The next day I cut down the branch, not looking in the attic for fear of seeing something I couldn't explain. I'd been doing that more and more lately. I'd see a shadow in the window and think someone was in the house, only to find out it wasn't there.

The thought that maybe I was making this up didn't even cross my mind. In fact, nothing other than the House crossed my mind anymore. Everything I did was dictated by It. I stayed out late to avoid It, I went to sleep fast to get away. I couldn't walk past the staircase to the attic, I ran. I couldn't leave things out because the House moved them. Like a weed It had infested inside me, and the level of obsession I once had for my husband had changed to It.

I grew tired all the time, and distant because no one would believe me if I told them. Therefore, I stopped trying to tell people. And since the House consumed every waking thought I had there was nothing else to talk about to others.

I was in a better mood come the dinner party. It meant a good solid excuse to escape the House for the better part of the night. Which was probably why I was smiling.

Roy came out of our closet, both of our tuxes in hand. One in each, they swung gently as he smiled fondly down at them, probably reminiscing. We hadn't worn them since our wedding. The dust hadn't even touched them, and I watched as he put his nose deep into the neck of mine, smelling it for a long moment. His expression changed minutely as I watched. I probably smelled different. I probably smelled like the House now. I wondered if he was saddened by this or not. He didn't show it.

I brushed my hair quickly, tying it back before grabbing the tux from Roy who was still inhaling it. I shot him a weird look, before leaving to go tug it on.

I could hear Roy changing behind me, but I didn't look at him as I buttoned my shirt up. I'd taken to not looking at him as much anymore, didn't like to see whatever it was in his eyes. Silent. They were watching me, always watching to make sure I didn't do something strange. I tried to stop saying things around him, about the House. When I saw things I'd just wait until he'd leave the house before grabbing the butcher knife and doing my circular patrol. I forced myself to walk past the staircase when he was in sight range. Still, I could see him judging me and sizing me up - perhaps with some concern.

And for what? I didn't see how he could stand to be in this house and not feel it.

"Help?"

I turned, sparing a glance at him, seeing the tie dangling from his fingertips and his crooked smile on his face. With a small sigh I grabbed the tie dutifully, swinging it around his neck. With quick, practiced fingers, I flipped the tie around and tied it, smoothing it along his chest and stepping back before I got too close.

"Kiss?"

I paused, my eyes peering straight down at his polished shoes. Kiss. The word struck me suddenly. I really didn't want to, I realized. I didn't. And it completely shocked me. I felt constantly watched in this place, kissing him in this house was... I didn't like it. I wished he had asked that of me after we'd started walking out of the House to the car, or the street.

But, I felt his gaze on top of my head and I wasn't stupid. This was some sort of test for him. He was testing me, like he always had before. My teeth gritted.

I lifted my head and rested my forehead against his - touching him for.. the first time in a very long time. It felt strange. I paused, glancing up at him.

His gazed flicked toward the door and he lightly pressed my shoulder - the weight unfamiliar - kissing my forehead in a way I could barely remember him doing before, and backed away toward the door. A look of disappointment settled across his face. Sadness, concern, uneasiness, they all settled into his barely visible wrinkles. I realized that he had gained a bit more of them since the last time I had been this close to his face. It had been a long while ago.

"Don't worry, Edward. We'll be late." He dropped it.

I didn't even pause as I almost vaulted out the door. I relaxed instantly as we went down the steps, hearing the front door shut and lock behind me. Safe for another four hours or so. I smiled easier, I walked easier.

Everything was easier.

Slipping into the passenger-side door I glanced up at the House and locked the door impulsively as I sat down before glancing over at him.

"So who am I meeting tonight?" I asked. Making conversation. Another thing I had given up on.

"Hmm, a few friends. You'll like Riza. She's nice."

I nodded, leaning my head back against the headrest, rolling my cranium back and forth as I closed my eyes slightly, my head aching just a tad but I pushed the feeling away before reopening my eyes and peering up at the sheer vastness of the sky and the universe above me. The feeling of smallness and insignificance was not lost on me as I gazed out of the window. I felt like I had been gazing out of windows for a while now. At least at night my shadow self wasn't present, always skirting behind me nipping at my heels. Despite still locked inside the car, I felt free for the first time in a long time.

The dinner was nice. I guess. It was a little overwhelming. I met lots of people that Roy worked with. They all glided around in different colored dresses and black suits, drinking as they spoke through the winding music. The whole room was decorated, not in a gody kind of way, but it was nice. I was just thankful I wasn't alone, at the House.

The colors assaulted my eyes and I grew quieter the longer and louder the music got. I found myself just watching people, watching Roy talk to people he knew that I didn't. I realized how out of place I was. I didn't have anyone to talk to since we moved, no one besides Roy, who I rarely talked to. I wondered if this was strange or because of the House.

I found myself standing near where the drinks were sitting as I watched people dance across the floor. I couldn't remember how a year ago I would have already made five more friends, or how I would have been out there dancing. I would have been the one that dragged Roy into something, I would be the one drinking and not the other way around. I felt empty, changed.

My eyes traveled along the girls and their sequins and frills and I got that feeling that I was being watched. I turned, expecting Roy, only to meet two clear, light-blue eyes.

"Hello." He grinned at me. "You're Mustang's husband, am I right?"

He had been standing behind me by the drinks and he grabbed a glass of champagne before walking up next to me. My eyes traveled along him for a second recognizing him, the neighbor I watched mow his lawn on Sundays, before I turned back to the dancing with a small nod.

"I am Heidrich." He stated simply, taking a sip of his champagne. His statement didn't warrant a response so I didn't give him one. Instead I let my eyes travel along the wooden floorboards. He paused for a long moment before sighing and taking another sip. "I thought I'd say hi since I live down your street. You just moved right?"

"About a year ago." I replied softly, in a tone that said 'I wouldn't classify it as 'just' moved'.

"Yes well." He mumbled, "I always meant to welcome you to the neighborhood, but work got in the way... no, I believe that's a lie, I didn't welcome you until now because I have a small aversion to that house."

My eyes darted up from the floor, then, shock flowing through me.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, I thought you had felt it too. Or else I wouldn't have said anything." He looked taken aback, and genuinely surprised. His hair was blond. A different kind of blond, though. Mine was redder, his was whiter.

"When I was a little boy I was convinced the house was haunted." He laughed, "It's stupid."

"No its not." I whispered.

"Anyways, I've been worried ever since you two moved in. I would have said something sooner but people generally think I'm crazy."

I was silent at that, taking the glass he offered me and sipping on it. If he was crazy so was I. And I wasn't about to think I was crazy.

"Well. If anything happens, you can always call me." He stated, he leaned closer and looked at me seriously. The amused aloof smile he had on his face was completely gone. A look of real seriousness spread across it, and like a handshake or a beam of light from the end of a long dark tunnel I watched him propose himself as an ally to my plight, "I mean it. I know you are alone in there a lot. I believe you, even if no one else does. If anything ever goes wrong you can give me a ring and I'll come."

I stared at him for a long moment, his face never wavered. I then turned with a small nod. There was something about him that made me trust him. Something in the way he and I were alike, in the way he said he believed me, that he knew about the house. He didn't seem strange in any way, he seemed like a friend. I was making a friend. A friend.

I smiled.

"Well, if you'll excuse me." He trailed off, "My wife is leaving.."

I looked over to see a woman with a dark red gown gathering her things by the door. Heidrich placed his glass down on the table and hurried after her, straightening his tie as he walked briskly out of the door. She didn't glance back, he followed her loyalty. I watched the couple leave until they vanished into the darkness outside.

I finished the drink then, sipping it slowly and thoughtfully to myself. My eyes drifted across the crowd, frowning as I couldn't find Roy. He had just been out there. I turned around in a semi-circle, feeling suddenly alone again, before I noticed him at the bar. He was grabbing yet another drink off of a plate before he looked at me. I could tell he had been watching me from afar and I took a long sip of my champagne as he came closer to me.

My eyes traveled along his face for a moment before they made their way back down to the bubbles in the champagne.

"You enjoying yourself?" Roy asked softly, leaning far closer than he had before. I wondered briefly if he had been watching my exchange with the neighbor and this was his visceral reaction. If it was indeed jealousy, I had to admit it felt nice to know he still cared.

"I'm fine." I danced around the question by answering one he hadn't asked. We either knew each other way to well, or not at all. I couldn't tell, the two extremes sometimes felt like the same thing. I turned my head to glance up at him and gave him a soft smile before taking another sip of the champagne. "Lonely." I admitted, "But fine."

He drew up a chair near me, placing his wine glass on his knee. My eyes flicked along his face, noting his slightly pink cheeks that he always got when he had been drinking.

"Know what you mean." He stated.

And that was that. We were silent for a long moment, sitting right next to each other yet he felt so very out of reach. I took another sip of my drink. His company was just there. It didn't do anything for me, it didn't offer anything other than the fact that he was there, and nothing else was. I didn't feel safe anymore, or protected. I just felt lonely.

My smile faded.

He seemed to notice the fading smile and looked me over with one of his own horribly sad ones.

"I know."

I said nothing, again, doubting that he knew much of anything that had been plaguing me since we had moved, finishing up my champagne with one desperate chug. I was tempted to get drunk tonight, but I avoided it, putting the empty glass on the table and I glanced at him, tapping my fingers along my knees as we sat, far apart, in silence.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked after a long moment, defeated. Not sure what else to do or say in this moment.

"Yeah, I'd like that a lot." He smiled at me.

"Okay." I told him, not sure if I remembered how to dance in the first place but I knew that I'd like to do something other than sit there with him in silence. I needed to love him again, the kind of way I had forgotten. I felt tired all of the time and drained and alone. And he was sitting here, and I knew that there had been a time where he could have made all that go away.

I stood slowly, turning to take his hand and pull him up out of his seat.

"You want to waltz?" He murmured, his lips near my neck. A phantom feeling raised goosebumps there. His breath against my skin had once been powerful, eliciting strong primal reactions in me. Now I merely gave a soft shiver. At least it wasn't gone.

He clasped my hand softly, slowly sliding one around my waist as if a question. We were tiptoeing around each other, not sure how to enter this shared space anymore.

I nodded shyly, stepping a bit closer to him and placing one hand on his shoulder and one around his waist. He smelled like cinnamon and alcohol. In the moment I didn't mind. For this moment, for this dance, I trusted him.

I stepped into the waltz, allowing him to lead after a while. The slow spinning made me tired and placid. My head rested on his chest after a few minutes, staring down at our feet as they moved slowly in a circle around the floor.

"I still love you, yeah?" He whispered.

I knew I didn't have to respond to that, it was put out there as a statement. If Roy was good at things it was to not get his feelings hurt. I didn't say anything or look up, but I moved my arms off from his shoulder and upper back and wrapped them around his waist instead as we moved. My grip tightened slowly, as if bringing him closer would help any. I guess right now it did. The House wasn't watching, and I could feel a sense of self come about me. I gained small flickers of who I was again, the longer I was out of the House the easier it was to remember myself."I still love you, yeah?"

He pressed his arms to my shoulders, his head softly resting on top of mine - a warm blanket.

"Mm." I mumbled, closing my eyes as we rocked around in circles together. It felt like we'd been spinning for a long time and I was disoriented, slightly tipsy, and tired. I stumbled into him after a while, dizzy as he held me up, leading me back toward the few chairs on the edges of the banquet hall and sitting down next to me.

We sunk into the cushions, and I looked at Hughes coming up to us.

"Want me to call a cab?" He asked softly, a small grin on his face.

When I woke up again I realized I was lying on my side of our bed in the House. I must have fallen asleep sometime back in the cab ride. The momentary confusion and jolt caused my heart to pound as my eyes flew open to see the gray ceiling above me. I shuddered instantly, finding it hard to breath, and I flopped over to see emptiness next to me.

"Roy?" I asked panicked, getting up quickly. I was still in my dress shirt and pants.

"Yeah?"

He padded out of the bathroom, shirt half open and looking at me worriedly.

I swallowed thickly for a moment, my head aching, as I watched him coming out of the bathroom. My stomach had been flipping with anxiety at waking up alone in this place. I slumped back against the bed when I saw he was here.

"Nevermind." I told him, feeling extremely relieved.

"You sure?"

I realized I was slightly drunk, or just really tired. We both were.

I let my body sprawl out on the bed as he moved into the room, closer, I remembered the feeling of his body pressed against me while we danced. The way he had held me, carefully, how for a moment he had made me feel loved - safe. It was easier to be relaxed when drunk, I realized. The previous shot of horror at waking up in the House was over.

I peered up at Roy, scanning his body slowly, wondering if we could get back what we had had before. Tonight had been the most physical contact we had had in a long time. We were always too tired to even have sex. I watched him with his shirt unbuttoned and for the first time in a very long time I wanted him. I looked at him and I actually wanted to be close to him, not just because I thought I should, but because he had been warm when we had been dancing.

"Roy?" I intoned softly, pressing my elbow into the bed to prop myself up, my body feeling numb. I wiggled my toes for a moment, still in dress socks.

Roy cocked a brow at me, sitting down on the bed as he looked at me curiously. My preposition face he had either forgotten, or didn't believe.

"Edward?" He humorously asked back, but there was worry laden in his tone as his eyes looked me up at down.

"I'll kiss you now." I told him. And so I did.

I thought about that for a moment, tasting him. I hadn't tasted him in forever. I licked my lips, delving back a moment later because I loved that taste. No matter how much we manage to be pulled apart. I still loved that taste. I licked his lip, trailing a kiss over his neck.

I felt his breath hitch in surprise and I couldn't remember the last time I had been intimate with my husband. It must have been before we moved. How had it been that long?

My hands were pressed against his chest as I found his lips again, simultaneously pushing him away while kissing him closer. I couldn't make up my mind. His chest was strong under my fingers, and I was so much weaker than I could ever remember.

With a small pop I let go of his lips, panting as I moved my hands to tug his shirt off, almost desperately. Like this moment was going to end. This brief moment of want and need, of me showing my vulnerability for him - to him - was going to be gone and we had to hurry up fast. The feeling that everything was going to end always chased me in this house. This was nothing different. I felt like I had rediscovered a piece of myself that had been so horribly missing tonight and right away the House was sucking it out of me again. All my passion was going to slip away and we only had this moment to act.

He seemed to sense my urgency, pulling his lips off mine for a moment and stopping me. His grip was too strong to get out of, even if I had wanted to. Our foreheads touched, my eyes were tight shut, and I knew he was waiting for me to open them. I panted, roughly, my lungs hitching as I almost sobbed - the emotionality of it all was hard for me to deal with. I felt as if I had almost reached my tipping point, almost overloaded in feelings.

My eyes finally fluttered open, the very small almost nonexistent glimmer of tears pooling in the deepest crevices of my eyes.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, quickly stroking my hair out of my face where it had been wildly flung, his thumbs skating across my freckled cheeks as I trembled, feeling cracked open. I said nothing, breathing in panicked breathes. It was the moment. The moment where I could tell him something was not right, I was not right. He had to know already that something was off with me. But, I knew if I told him everything would change. He would think I was insane. Maybe not even listen to me like he hadn't before. I sucked in a few deep breathes, composing myself - wanting instead to opt out, and have this moment we were about to share.

I shook my head, still being held in his palms to tightly that it was barely a flinch.

"Nothing." I managed out, "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I'm fine." I lied. His fingers in my scalp loosened their grip, running along my hairline, making my spine tingle. I looked back up at him again with a smile this time. Reaching up, I grabbed his hands from where they were massaging my scalp, ignoring how he was looking at me as if seeing me for the first time in a long time. My fingertips intertwined with his as I leaned back into him, missing the intimacy as he pushed me back gently, shrugging his shirt off as pressed into me against the bed.

It was like discovering each other for the first time, and it was completely different than it had ever been before. The pent up lust had us grapple with each other rougher, press harder, move faster. I shivered as his teeth grazed the tendons in my neck. I ran my hands down his abs, resting on his pant line. It was getting too hot, suddenly. I couldn't breath as we sprawled together onto the bed, running lips and tongues down each other's skin.

I had missed him like this.

He moved as if everything was still a question, still taking the lead, but no longer demanding as if he knew what I wanted anymore. He flipped me around, and I could feel the bed shake for a moment as he took his pants off, before in one quick swipe doing the same for me. The heat of his erection pressing in-between my legs as his hands skimmed along my ass - clearly he hadn't seen it in a while by the soft hitching breath he made or the way he slowly moved about preparing me, it was more gentle than ever before.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, voice near my ear as my face was pressed into the pillow. I was almost too afraid to face him, too afraid he'd see right through me again. With no noise I nodded tightly, digging my forehead into the sheets and grappling the sheets as he fingered me. The whole affair was overwhelming. I hadn't felt so much skin in so long my body almost didn't know how to respond. As he spun me around again almost like a doll I felt a surge of dizziness, my eyes slipping shut, breath panting in quick gasps.

His hand was cradling the back of my head, holding it up as he descended upon me for the first time in years and when I cried out in shock at the feeling he wrapped me tighter, pulling my head over his shoulder. As I slowly opened my eyes I could see his long back, muscles clenching and unclenching. His ass - fine as always - working. I could see the proof of us making love, graphic in every detail, but instead of feeling that same sense of urgency that I had before I felt a sweep of calmness settle over me. His breath was like an engine in my ears, hot, and I could feel that Roy instead was the one in a small panic, racing, away or towards something. Trying to put me, us, back together - afraid that this would be the last time.

I reached up from where I had been almost limp in his arms as he man-handled me, pressing deeper up inside me and I stroked the top of his head slowly, my eyes flicking up to the yellowed ceiling of the House and I was reminded - again - just where we were. I had almost forgotten.

"E-Ed" He croaked, our - his - pace speeding up and I felt him tremble, the grip he had on me turning almost unbearable. I wrapped my arms around him slowly, knowing he had finished, and when he rolled us over onto our sides and panted against the top of my head, exhausted, I merely pressed my face into his chest. And for a long moment we were silent, still, entwined. The shock of what had just happened filled the room, and I felt for some reason that - in that very moment - Roy was the one shaken the most more than me. His limbs were trembling as he attempted to hold me.

And for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep without trouble, and didn't dream.

* * *

He was going to kill me today. My memory was fuzzy and punctuated by horror, but I knew for a fact that he had found his way out of the attic. Whoever had been always lurking inside the House, I was certain that he had stayed in the attic, but I had seen him the other day when Roy was out, for however a brief moment. I had bolted and re-bolted the door. It had ten or more locks on it. I went down to the hardware store to buy them almost once a week. The man always gave me a strange look whenever I went in there. Like what in the world is so bad you want to lock out twenty seventy times?

But it wasn't enough because he was a demon or something. He could ooze through the small crack in the door. I had even filled the crack with towels. I had made sure no light could get inside the attic. Our pictures and our things were still in there, in the box, but I was too frightened to go inside to get them. I had boarded up the window outside. I couldn't stand to look at the House anymore.

And now I knew today was the day I was going to die. Because I was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at the door. It was wide open. All the locks were riddled down the stairway. I felt my limbs start to shake in terror, the towel had been ripped from the crack like someone had kicked it on the way out. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find, and grabbed the phone. With shaky clumsy fingers I dialed the number that Heidrich had given me, peering out across the street to see his car in the driveway. He had to be home, he would know to come over - to call someone, get help.

Panicked I waited as the line rang and rang and rang, before a woman answered.

"Hello, South Side Reality - this is Riza speaking. How may I help you?"

I breathed heavily, momentarily stunned, before I hung up, dialed the number again.

"Hello? South Side Reality, this is Riza. Who is this?"

"Hello, may I speak to Heidrich?" I tried.

"I'm sorry, I don't know anyone that works here by that name."

I hung up again, pacing back and forth before throwing the phone with a sob. He had given me a faulty number? But he had worked there, he _had_. I had seen him at the dinner party. South Side Reality, the same company that Roy worked for, he had to work there. Why else would he be at the event? Unless his wife worked there instead of him. That hadn't even occurred to me. But wouldn't they have shared the same last name if they were husband and wife? Maybe not - I had never taken Mustang. I twirled the knife around as I spun slowly, eyes darting from hallway to doorway. I didn't have time for this, I was in peril.

I paused before the staircase leading to the attic. I didn't want to go up there. I didn't. He was going to kill me. I couldn't breathe, he was going to stab me and strangle me and torture me. He was going to rape me and dismember me and drive me to the brink of insanity. There would be nothing left of me to bury. I couldn't breathe.

My legs felt full of rocks, barely able to move as I tried to force myself up the stairs. Part of me was screaming to run, part of me was screaming to fight. The light from behind me up the stairs made my shadow self grow taller than I was, stretching in a morbid laugh of myself up the stairs. I pushed myself forward, an invisible me shoving myself back, telling me that going into the attic was the worst possible place for me to go into. The attic was to give up. It was to break. I wouldn't come out of there alive - my death hung from its frame like a fog and it made me choke and tremble. Its aura was something that no number of deadbolts could keep in.

I made it to the top step and my shaking hand flicked the light on. My heart was pounding, it was hard to think. As I flicked it up the light flooded the room and my shadow disappeared. My eyes were wide and I was blind for a terrorizing half a second before I could see again. I could see the boxes that I hadn't looked at for years it seemed. The light bulb cast a lazy hue across my knife blade.

"N-No.." I whispered, seeing the rope hanging from the middle timber of the roofing. It wasn't moving or swaying, but the room seemed to swirl around it and I felt light-headed and dizzy. It was amazing how innocent a simple loop at the end of that rope was - and how it made me feel like screaming and running back down the stairs.

There was a sudden flicker, the light bulb dimmed and I let out an involuntary whimper, shifting. I swear I saw someone's shadow cast - running along the left side of the attic and behind a box.

"Damn you!" I screamed, "Come out so I can _kill_ you!" Please, please stay put, don't come out. I don't want to see who you are, I don't want to end up hanging from the rope, please, ignore me.

I stumbled, shaking so hard it couldn't keep the knife straight. I should have cut the rope down when I had had the chance!

"Come OUT!" I demanded, my voice coming out as barely a whisper despite me yelling, "NOW!"

"Edward. You shouldn't have come up here."

I jumped, crouching as I heard the voice come from behind a box full of our old photographs. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak. It was trapped inside my swollen throat. I wasn't making this up, this was real. This was real and I was going to die. He had been here all along, I had been RIGHT.

"I set the rope up just for you. I didn't think you would come at first, but I should have known. I've always known you better than you know yourself."

"Come out.." I whispered, trying to make it sound authoritative but it came out weak and beaten. I was already beaten. I had entered the dragon's lair.

"You knew, and you came in anyways."

I did. I did. I was stupid. Why had I come here? Why had I let myself walk through the door? I was beaten.

"Let me.. see you.." I moaned. I had to see it was real. I had to know who he was. Who had been haunting me for almost a year now.

And then I did. He was standing right in front of me, and he was smirking at me. I knew who he was, and yet he was unfamiliar. I saw a look in his eyes that made me remember how much I wanted to live, that I didn't want him to take this away from me, whatever _this_ was. He suddenly approached me, his expression changing. He wasn't smiling, he was growling. He punched me, and it _hurt_.

"Of course." I gasped. I think I had known it was him all along.

I scrambled, still clutching the knife and he was on top of me, he had ahold of my hair and my neck. Like the noose it suddenly tightened and I gaped and convulsed, writhing to try and get him to release me. His giant golden eyes bore into mine and I lashed out with the knife.

He gave me a shocked look, I felt his blood on me. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it and grabbed the knife from me as I screamed - my wrist popping. I threw a punch at him, scrambling and trying to kick and bite any part of him I could. I grabbed a picture from the pile and I smashed the glass into the side of his head - the glass exploded and cut deep into my palms. I could feel the blood dribbling down the side of my head, pooling around my ear.

And then, he preformed a graceful arcing twirl and I felt the knife smash through my shoulder blade and I knew that I had won, and lost. Everything blurred, I couldn't breathe, the attic was the death of me, I knew this. He was a shadow, figment, imprint, he was swirling above me - victorious. His smirk widened, pearly teeth glinting, golden hair spilled about his shoulders, and each freckle on his cheeks a reflection of mine. I was so weak in comparison, and I felt the hard floor and the warm blood as I let out a surprised and agonized scream. The pain flared from my chest and my hands scrambled to try and stop the blood but it was _everywhere_.

There were thuds downstairs, and clumsy feet running up the stairs. I could feel the vibrations of the wood each time the door was pounded knock against my skull as I peered up - eyes exactly level with the noose that hovered feet above my nose. I had been too slow, I thought dimly. Was that Heidrich coming to get me? There was a yell, Roy's voice, and the sound of a hammer.

"Its locked from the inside, go get something bigger to break it down!" The sound of people running down the stairs, before another booming pound. It echoed around me.

"Edward? Ed! Answer me! Unlock the door, please. Babe? Can you hear me? You need-"

I blinked slowly, watching the ceiling swirl around the noose, the sound of his voice an endless trail of meaningless jabber.

"-open the door. Edward! ED!"

My eyes drifted, shutting and fading him out. I didn't hear when he had finally busted through the doors, but I heard the twenty seven locks that had been placed from the inside get scattered and dropped around like scuttling beetles. That didn't make sense to me, the locks had already been taken off, hours before, they should have been on the stairs.

With a whoosh there was a body next to me.

"Ed? Ed, wake up." Roy's voice was trembling, a rare occasion, "Open your eyes."

I whimpered, reaching up to press against the wound in my shoulder. My vision swirled and twisted as I looked at him, never having seen him look so fearful and pale in his life. There were tear stains down his cheeks and he was shaking. The rope was hanging directly above me, swaying now, from the rush of air the door let in, ominously. And I saw Heidrich, peering over, a worried expression on his face. He must have gotten Roy when he had heard I called. I let out a pained gasp and cry - every breath seemed to rip me apart.

"He.. stabbed me!" I managed out. My hands were warm with blood, seeping from unrecognizable places in my shoulder.

"Who? Get a doctor!" I heard Roy call from over me, felt Heidrich's quick footsteps move out of the attic and down the stairs in a trot, before he pulled my hand away from my shoulder and started to rip through my clothes, touching my skin lightly, "Not stabbed.." He whispered, a rush of relief, "Not stabbed… Edward, the blood is from your hand."

"No.." I whispered, my eyes drooping. "I was stabbed.."

I felt Roy rip off part of my jacket, tying it tightly around my bleeding hand and pressing his against my head where it was bleeding, but it felt it as if through another person looking in.

"Where's the medic? He's in shock, he's passing out."

"-dward? Keep looking at me okay?"

* * *

I was falling. Falling and dying and spinning and screaming all in one. I jerked awake aching. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. My back was sore and my jaw was throbbing. I felt my neck give out, my head lolling from side to side as I tried to move.

"You'll feel a little off. The drugs are thinning."

I felt my eyes start to roll backwards again and I struggled with a grunt to stop the darkness from interfering again. The back of my cranium hit a hard wooden surface and I felt the jolt pop me awake again. I felt achey and numb at the same time. It shouldn't be possible, but it was. I couldn't move my mouth, my tongue was swollen and a thin line of drool was falling from the corner of my mouth.

"The full effects should wear off in a few hours."

I forced my eyes open.

"Where..?" I moaned out, barely making the word form. The man was suddenly closer, standing right in front of me. He either moved fast or my vision kept cutting out. I groaned, flinching as he grew too close.

"You are in my office. Do you remember what happened earlier today?"

Did I remember... did I... I.. I had been stabbed. I had died. I had seen Heidrich, he had been trying to save me but in the end I had died. I had been chased through the house - the demon in the attic had been let out. I couldn't stop it, it overtook me. The shadows had turned out to be real, the threat I had been smelling had doubled and grew out of the yellowing wallpaper. It had pinned me to the floor and stabbed me in the shoulder. _I_ had stabbed me in the shoulder.. or had I? Roy had been there, I think.. I couldn't remember. Had he? Or had it been Heidrich? I remember Heidrich distinctly.. I ...

"What are you thinking?"

The man's voice jolted me like a violent shock and I let out a short scream. I flinched back and felt the chair. I was sitting in a chair. My fuzzy mind suddenly realized that I was in a room, strapped by the ankles and wrists to a chair. I screamed again, the tethers seemed to strangle me. Who was this man? Who was he? How could I trust him? Why was I strapped down?

"Calm down, Edward. Tell me what you are thinking."

His hand came down on mine and pain flooded my senses.

"Don't touch me! Get away!" I screamed at him, bolting from the chair with all the strength I had left. The chains that bound me tripped me and I landed on my side on the floor, like a wounded dog. The breath had been knocked out of me and I felt his carpeting grating painfully into my cheek as I struggled to breath. The floor seemed to spin, I was falling again.. I was dying oh my god oh my god -

My head hurt, my head..I looked around the room once more and noticed Heidrich. He was just _standing_ there looking at me. I screamed at him to help me. Why wasn't he helping me? He had said he would always be there for me, but I had been _stabbed_ and he hadn't done anything, Heidrich, he hadn't DONE anything. He wasn't DOING anything.

"Who are you talking to?"

I screamed as I felt the man's hand grab my hands, we were wrestling.

"What are you thinking?"

"Let go let go let go let go!"

"You are hitting yourself, Edward. I cannot let go. Don't make me drug you again."

"Don't! Heidrich!" I pleaded, "He's _killing_ me!"

Heidrich's form was burned into my vision. His beautiful face was pained and saddened as he watched me. He looked at a loss of what to do. His mouth formed a worried frown and his hands were wringing.

"Who are you talking to?"

"HEID!" I bellowed, "NO!" I could feel the man's hands grow rough suddenly and I couldn't breathe. I could feel my body shaking, my heart was pounding in my ear. His fingers were cold and yanked my pants down and then there was a concentrated prick of agony in my rear and like plunging into water everything was filtered and watery and I gasped, my mouth open and my tongue feeling the carpet under my face.

"I hate having to resort to drugs, Edward."

His voice sounded like a song suddenly. Heidrich was blurred, but still sitting there watching me struggle against the bindings like a weak animal. I started to sob.

With a sudden grunt the world spun and twisted and I was weightless for almost a few seconds before I felt myself slammed back into the chair.

"Now." The man's voice cut into my consciousness which was fading in and out rapidly. I was spinning again, it was unpleasant but a good alternative to being stabbed. I couldn't see him anymore, I think my eyes had stopped working. Everything was white dots.

"You had a seizure, Edward."

A seizure? I had been stabbed.

"You damaged your hands, punching a mirror."

"No.." I moaned.

"You had a psychotic breakdown."

No. No. That couldn't be right. Why wasn't Roy here? Why wasn't he telling them what really happened? How come no one believed me?

"No.. I was stabbed..." I ground out.

"Where Edward? Show me."

I tried to move my hand but it only made it an inch before I felt the world start to move and I had to put it back on the solid wood lest I puke or pass out.

"My shoulder.." I mumbled. Suddenly the man's cold hand was pressed there.

"Here? Does this feel wounded to you?"

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting. No. It didn't. It didn't hurt.

"You drugged.. you .."

"I drugged you? I would think that a kitchen knife like the one you had in your hand would leave a big enough hole that you could still feel it while under suppressants."

"No.." I moaned, my head lolling. I dared to open my eyes and Heidrich was standing next to me. He gave me a courageous smile which I tried to return but I couldn't.. My mouth was limp. "Heid.. save me."

"Who is there Edward?" The man snapped.

Why? Didn't he see him? Heidrich was standing right there. I stared at him for a long moment, into his clear blue eyes that were pleading me to lie. Heidrich shook his head slowly, but I told anyways.

"Heidrich." I told the man, "He's right there.. he's my friend."

"Edward there is no one there."

"Shut up!" I screamed, anger suddenly flooding through my veins. "Shut up!"

"There was no one in your house."

"STOP!"

"You were not stabbed."

"NO!" I was trying to bellow to block out his voice.

"You are sick."

What was he saying? It didn't even make sense. I couldn't trust him, I didn't even know who he was.

"Where's Roy? Are you going to tell me that he isn't real too?" I demanded, I could feel the tears starting again.

"He's outside in the waiting room."

"I want to see him." I sobbed. I felt like a child suddenly. Stubborn and refusing to listen. I wanted my teddy bear - and since Heidrich was not obliging to fulfill my needs I reached out for the next best. I wanted my husband. I wanted someone to tell this man to stop poking needles into my ass, to stop telling me I was making this all up. It had been real. I had fought for my life no less than twenty-four hours ago and it had not been a psychotic meltdown and a seizure! I had been STABBED. I had been murdered in my own house by the THING that had hunted me since the day we moved in.

"You will see him." The man sighed, "In a little while."

"No. Now." I mumbled. I couldn't imagine Roy would allow this kind of treatment. I could hardly speak, much less move. I wanted out of this damn chair, and in his arms. I wanted a real doctor that could help dress my wound in my shoulder. I wanted out of this place that reeked of.. psychiatrist.

I remembered Roy's face. I remembered vaguely what had happened. How he had burst in the door, and how I'd been screaming in pain. He looked about ready to cry. How could that not be real?

I could remember feeling light-headed from the blood loss, my shoulder had been throbbing and blood was everywhere. I was drowning in it. My fingers had been slick with warm blood as I had grappled at my wound, writhing on the floor.

Beyond that I think I passed out, faces had swam in my vision. Roy's.. Heidrich's.. paramedics.. and now this man's. I remember not being able to breath.. it couldn't have just been a dream!

"I want Roy. I want my husband." I slurred, hardly able to keep my head upright. My entire body was slumped against the chair as I heard my breathing loud in my ears, my vision started to cloud, the drugs putting me under even as I struggled to stay awake, aware, "Now... Now…N-"

* * *

It was silent again, different than before.

Roy was sitting next to my hospital bed, his fingertips rubbing up and down my arm that was strapped to the bed as I glared out the window. Always, another window.

"I'm sorry, Ed." He finally stated, and I glanced at him, confused. "I should have noticed, listened to you more. Should have paid more attention."

"I'm not sick." I stated, ignoring the sadness that appeared on his face when I said it. I gritted my teeth, tugging against the arm holds of the bed. "Why am I strapped down again?" I asked him, "And why are you allowing it?"

"You hurt yourself." Roy whispered.

I shook my head, unable to believe it. Not willing to believe it. I watched as Heidrich, who had been sitting in the corner of the room, stood up and peered out the window as well, arms crossed. Roy seemed to notice the way my eyes trailed along the wall, he grew tense, unsure. I realized with a sudden jolt he didn't know how to act around me, or what to say. What would 'set me off'.

"I'm fine." I reiterated. His paused stroking continued over the bandages laced around my outward facing palms. My fingers twitched, taking his in mine.

"You saw Heidrich, at the party - how can you believe I'm making it up? He works with you. I called him before I was attacked." I stated, turning to look at him. My voice trailed off the more I thought. Heidrich had never given me a number at the party, I realized, he had just told me to call him. And I had called a number without looking one up - Roy's office number. I blinked repeatedly, unable to stomach it all.

"Babe, you only talked to Riza at the party - she told me she had thought it was you that had called."

"You saw him." I stated defiantly, but I felt deflated. "You saw him.." I whispered, looking up at Heidrich who was looking out the window - not listening or wanting to listen. I noticed how similar we looked. He looked a lot like my brother, actually. A spitting image - how had I not noticed it before? I stared at him closely. The way he held is posture, the way he frowned slightly. It was all distinctly my brother.

"You were standing by yourself for most of the time." Roy continued as if I hadn't interrupted, "He's here now isn't he?"

I said nothing, forcing my eyes to stay away from the window. I couldn't answer, I didn't know anymore. Was he here, real? How could I tell? I swallowed in disbelief.

"How long has he been here?" Roy questioned softly.

"All day." I whispered, my voice choked, feeling broken. "I saw him." I whispered, "How can I be this sick?" My chin collapsed down onto my chest and Roy shifted, sitting on the side of the bed and gathering me into his arms. I could smell him, it smelt undeniably real. But now nothing could be trusted. My own mind, something I had prided myself in, couldn't be trusted. "How do I even know you're here?" I questioned with a soft sob into his chest, my eyelashes brushing along the cotton of his shirt. He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in days. The stubble on his chin brushed along my forehead as he kissed it. All of these things were real. Had to be. Heidrich was always impeccable. He wore the same clothes I had seen him in the night we had met. Roy had coffee stains on his shirt and under his nails, and his breath smelt as if he hadn't brushed his teeth in a while. Like he hadn't gone home - couldn't go home.

"Where did the noose come from?" I asked suddenly.

"Don't torture yourself even more." Roy shifted, uncomfortable. I knew there was more Roy had been told that he wasn't telling me. I frowned, shoving him a bit away.

"Where did it come from?" I asked again, if not bought by my attacker.

"You, babe." He whispered stiffly, "You bought it, it's on our credit card records."

"No." I stated, unable to listen to that. Unable to think I had been not lucid, that entire gaps in my day had been unaccounted for that I couldn't remember.

"It's okay, Ed." He told me, breath making the top of my hair dust. "It's going to be okay. We'll move back to Boston. We should have never left in the first place."

The thought of never having to go back to the House made me stop crying for a moment.

"You'll spend time with your brother, with your friends. We'll be together. I'll help you."

Roy was undeniably real holding me in that moment. Something that no one could ever dissuade me was a figment of my own mind. I felt him close to me and for the first time in a long time we felt connected again. I could trust him again, in a world where nothing could be trusted he was the sole anchor. I had thought that had been Heidrich all along, only to find out I had been mistaken. I sighed, leaning into him, smelling him and committing him to memory. His hold on me was familiar, the way he used to hold me.

It felt, in that moment, that things were going to actually going to be as he said, going to be okay again.


End file.
